


Dreamscape

by PepperPrints



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:12:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperPrints/pseuds/PepperPrints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why couldn't you stay dead?” sighs Daken, as if chastising him. “You could have kept me company.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreamscape

**Author's Note:**

> For 31_days. Prompt: a thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it.

For weeks now, Johnny has the same dream.

 

He never gets very far, but it always starts the same. It's late in the evening, in some rural little town, and distantly he can hear a couple of kids playing – and not so distantly, just one is crying, and Johnny races out in search of him. He doesn't know why it feels so drastic that he resolve this; he doesn't recognize this place around him or any of the voices, but he knows this is important.

 

He usually wakes up before he finds the crying child, likely because he doesn't want to be found at all. Maybe this time Johnny sneaks up on him, since he finds the boy so much more easily than before. He's dressed in a kimono and crouched down by a pond, its surface covered in fallen flower petals. The image gives Johnny pause, and the moment he looks at the boy he's unmistakable – the hair alone gives him away.

 

“Daken!” he blurts unthinkingly, and the boy whips around, his eyes narrow and his face full of anger.

 

He snaps something at Johnny, shrill and angry, and Johnny stirs in shock. The boy is ranting at him in words he can't comprehend, and he waves his hands to try to calm him down. “Whoa – hey!” he shouts to be heard over the boy's voice. “Slow down! What did I do? I don't speak Japanese!”

 

But the boy obviously speaks English. “You don't – yet you know that word,” he replies lowly. “You would call me such a thing...?!”

 

Johnny blinks a few times, utterly at a loss, and he holds up his hands disarmingly. “Sorry – I just... I thought that was your name,” he explains a bit lamely, and that makes things even worse, since the boy starts shouting again.

 

“That is not my name!” he snaps fiercely. “I'm not a mongrel! My name is Akihiro!”

 

Well that explains a few things while also raising several more questions. “Okay, okay!” insists Johnny. “I'm sorry! Look. I didn't mean to get off on the wrong foot. Let me start over.” Offering out a winning smile, Johnny holds out his hand. “I'm Johnny Storm.”

 

The boy gives his hand a look as if it might bite him, then he turns back to the pond. “I know who you are,” he mutters sourly.

 

“...ouch,” says Johnny, self deprecating, “not a fan?”

 

The boy doesn't answer, so Johnny tries another tactic. He comes up closer, and when the boy doesn't object, he sits down by the pond next to him. “You're not with any of the other kids. Is that why you were crying?”

 

“I wasn't crying!” the boy tells him sharply, but Johnny can still see the redness in his eyes. “That's not your business!”

 

Usually, Johnny considers himself good with kids, given his constant exposure to Franklin and Valeria, but he's not usually the one who comforts them – that's mom and dad's job. He doesn't know how to handle this.

 

Except, maybe he does; he just doesn't want to look at it that way. He watches the boy, taking in his vulnerable expression and his rigid posture.

 

Suddenly, he tries again. “Is it because you died?”

 

The dream itself seems to go still, and he can feel the trembling in the boy's boy vividly as he tenses beside him. All other sound seems to cease: no other children, no bugs in the grass and no dripping water. There is only the two of them.

 

“Why do you care?” the boy asks coldly, his voice weakening a little but painfully clear in the silence that surrounds them. “You didn't know him.”

 

Johnny almost argues, but he realizes the point is valid. How much does he really know about Daken? A few conversations and long distance texts doesn't really paint a true picture.

 

“I'd have liked to know him,” replies Johnny after a tentative pause. “I'd have liked to help him.” Johnny watches the water and the boy gives a noise between a laugh and a sob.

 

“Liar,” he accuses quietly, rubbing his eye on the sleeve of his robe. “If that were true, he wouldn't have died.”

 

Johnny narrows his eyes. That's one step too far. He doesn't look at the boy, focusing on the very still flower petals on the pond. “I offered to help him,” he insists. He doesn't expect saying that to hurt so much, but it's the truth, and it twists in his chest. “He may have died rejecting that, but that doesn't mean I didn't offer. I wouldn't lie about that – I wouldn't lie to him.”

 

“Daken lied to you.”

 

The tone is harsher than before, and full of hate, and it bites through Johnny's skin like ice. He exhales, his eyes closing briefly. “I know that.”

 

Silence stretches between them for a moment, ripples spreading through the pond, and then Johnny hears him laugh.

 

“You don't change, do you?”

 

That may have been true of Johnny, but that voice certainly changes. It's adult now, smooth and silky, and when Johnny turns his head, Daken is kneeling next to him. He has the same clothes, and his eyes are still red, but he's himself again.

 

The sight warms him much more than he thought it would.

 

“You could change,” counters Johnny stubbornly, “if you tried.”

 

Daken scoffs, dismissing him without comment, and Johnny finds the urge to speak. “What does your name mean?”

 

Sighing, Daken lets his eyes slip shut. “Mongrel,” he replies simply and Johnny shakes his head.

 

“No, the other one,” he corrects. “What does Akihiro mean?”

 

Daken's eyes snap open again. For a moment, he looks taken off guard for once – vulnerable. It doesn't last, however, as Daken quickly closes his eyes again, smoothing out his robes. “It doesn't matter,” he says. “It's not my name anymore.”

 

“Tell me anyway.”

 

Daken finally turns his head to look at him. His eyes aren't as red as before, but the ghost of it is still there: just an inch of that child showing through. “Do you like this dream?” he asks instead, and Johnny would have chastised him for changing the subject, if not for what Daken said next. “This is where I grew up.”

 

Johnny isn't sure how to respond. Shrugging his shoulders, he glances around, trying to imagine and failing. He really doesn't know anything about Daken at all; that becomes all the more apparent as he looks around. “It's nice,” he answers belatedly.

 

Suddenly, Daken moves: shifting down to lay himself over Johnny with his head pillowed in his lap. Johnny stirs, too shocked to react at first, but then tentatively rests his hand on Daken's shoulder.

 

“Why couldn't you stay dead?” sighs Daken, as if chastising him. “You could have kept me company.”

 

Johnny is lost for words for a moment. He could correct that misunderstanding, but he decides against it. He doesn't want to have a fight. Instead, he relaxes, daring to slide his fingers through Daken's hair. “I can do that here,” he offers. “Until I wake up.”

 

That seems to be an acceptable substitute. Daken smiles, nuzzling his cheek against Johnny's thigh, and he makes himself comfortable. “I'd like that.”

 

Trying to grin, Johnny feels the expression break. “I'll look for you,” he promises brashly, and Daken starts laughing at him again.

 

“Where?”

 

“Dunno; anywhere.” It doesn't seem all that daunting of a mission now; Johnny has braved worse things. The dream feels too real to not mean something. This isn't something ordinary; he feels too much from this. Maybe that's naïve hope, but he can't deny himself this chance. “I'll find you.”

 

Daken mutters something, and Johnny's brow furrows. “I told you I don't speak Japanese,” he reminds, and Daken smirks.

 

“It's nothing,” says Daken, which only convinces Johnny to commit the sounds to memory. “You'll wake up soon.”

 

“You will too,” says Johnny stupidly, and the dream dissolves with the sound of Daken's laughter.

 

He wishes he could tell if it was genuine or mocking.


End file.
